Same Old Goes

The pigeons massing all around,
A cute alternative girl.
You stick out but you don't care,
Neither do I but I'm not there.
The shops selling different things,
The tube taking you anywhere,
Buildings older than you've seen,
From the era of some king or queen,
Who's dead.

And here the same old goes but it's somehow different,
And the music plays but it's strange.
And my mind doesn't see things quite the same way.
What if this were always?

You are my context.
You are my context.

My eyes sting but I read on,
When I notice that she's watching me.
So I asked her what her name is and stuff like that,
At the middle island of Park Street.
She's Sandra, she plays the oboe,
I just came from the recording studio,
Her brother is housesitting here,
In September she'll go back to school,
Her train is near,
Wait...

And here the same old goes but it's somehow different,
And the music plays but it's strange.
And my mind doesn't see things quite the same way.
What if this were always?

You are my context.
You are my context.